“What are you doing here? How dare you come to my rooms!” The man stepped into the middle of the room. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. ‘Jacques?’ ‘No. Here is one verse. Something to tell you. I am grateful, indeed I am. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote.
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